When the Sun Goes Away
by Hardwood Studios
Summary: ...The clown comes out to play. A late night visit from the Joker, and Bruce is left with finger-shaped-bruises and the shattered remains of his ego.


_A/n: This was inspired by repeated viewings of the Dark Knight, a ridiculous amount of Lady Gaga (I mean really, Bad Romance? Monster? Is it just me, or do the lyrics for those songs just scream 'Batman and Joker, bitches'?), lots and lots of Youtube, and...that one song by Maroon Five. I think it's called 'One More Night'. I really can't be sure. _

_Just a heads up, because I don't want to throw you charming folks under the buss, this little piece has absolutely zero plot. Not even a hint of a plot line. You can squint, look at this sideways, read it backwards, but you still won't find even a little smidgen of plot. It's just absolute smut. Pure and utter filthiness. So hooray for that, am I right?_

_I also thought I oughta let you know that I'm trying out a new writing style - My friends seem to think it's pretty annoying, so uh...I guess it's up to you to tell me whether or not I was being obnoxious when I thought up this new style. I call it the 'Emphasis Effect': That basically entails an obnoxious amount of bolded and italicized words, a couple hundred sentences that start with 'And', random phrases/words plopped right in the middle of sentences (in between dashes), and lots of words that are crammed together. So um...look out for that._

* * *

Even when caught up in the cloying clutches of sleep, Bruce could tell when something _just wasn't right_. It was a natural instinct that caused his chest to tighten and his breath to shorten, and it was something his unconscious mind was trained to recognize. Danger was _close_.

His eyelids - despite their heaviness - snapped open. His eyes were sharper than they had any right to be, as they searched the surrounding darkness for the impending threat. And found nothing. His penthouse was silent and empty. Faint sprinkles of moonlight were streaming through the panoramic windows, chasing away the shadows and lighting up the dark space.

But then he was _struck _with that _razor _sharp awareness, and he felt all the things he knew he should _not _be feeling. The arm - like an iron snake - curled around his naked waist, the spindly fingers massaging a gentle pressure into his jutting hip, the hot puffs of breath rolling across the back of his neck, the chest - **hard **_and _**hot **_and _**there **- molded against his back. His brain stuttered to a halt, and it took a painfully long second for it to reboot itself.

"Fina-ll-y awake, Brucey?"

That voice. That _voice_. That _terrifyingly familiar _voice. Bruce went rigid, his eyes growing wide. Why - _why, why, why _- was the **Joker** in his penthouse? In his bed! Holding him...?

The confusion was so strong and sudden, that he couldn't manage to summon the _rage _he needed.

"You aren't - heh - _glad _to see me? Or uh...should I say _feel _me?" The clown crooned, and Bruce could feel those scarred lips brushing against his skin with every word. And that was all it took. He tumbled off the side of the bed - _out _of the Joker's arms - and rolled into a defensive crouch several feet away.

His body was tightly coiled, just _waiting _for the perfect chance to snap. The painted menace was lounging in _his _bed, head propped in his hand, acting for all the world as if he belonged there. His grin was somehow both lazy and maniacal, and it caused his inner bat to **seethe **with rage. "Joker." He snarled, his voice dipping into the deeper gravelly tones of his alter ego.

"A_**t **_your service." He purred, his tongue clicking noisily on the 't'.

"How did you..." He trailed off into a tense silence. There were so many questions he should be asking, answers he should be demanding, and yet he hadn't the slightest clue where to begin. How did the Joker manage to infiltrate his supposedly impenetrable penthouse? How did he know where to find him in the first damn place? How did he even discover the true identity of the _Batman_?

"Cat got your tongue, Brucey Boy?" The Joker chuckled lowly, his usual insanity tainted with something darker. "Or maybe I should use your _pr-o-per _title, hm? _**Batman**_." His voice was no more than a primal growl when speaking the vigilante's namesake, and it caused a shiver to curl down Bruce's spine.

"I don't know what you're talking about. I'm **not **the Batman." He growled right back, trying in vain to make himself sound believable. The Joker cackled loudly, flopping onto his back. "And I - heh - thought _my _jokes were bad!" He howled. Faster than Bruce could've anticipated, the crazed clown was off the bed and stalking towards him. "Don't. _Lie. _To me." He enunciated each word with a step forward, and it was all Bruce could do to keep himself from scrambling backwards. He reminded himself that he didn't _need _the suit to be better than the Joker. He was still Batman, with or without the cowl and cape.

"I can see right through that billionaire visage of yours, _Bruce_. This life, it just doesn't **fit **you." The Joker was crouching in front of him now, a mere half a foot away. His gaze was intense and assessing and _oh so impossibly blue _from within those blackened pits. "And uh, you don't exactly have the most _loyal _bunch of employees." He snickered. And that was when Bruce _knew_. There was only one individual outside of his inner circle that knew the true identity of the Batman.

"Coleman Reese." He breathed.

"_That's _the sniveling little rat. All I had to do was toss a few grenades his way, and he sang for me like a canary." He scoffed. Maybe it was just his alarming lack of sleep, but the Joker almost sounded..._disappointed_. Bruce frowned, and began to steadily inch his way backwards. The clown was unstable at best. Without the protection of his Kevlar, he wasn't comfortable with being so _close_. "What do you want, Joker?" He glared up into that painted face with all of the inner animosity he possessed. While such a look would have sent most hardened criminals scuttling off for a place to hide, it only earned him a toothy grin from the Joker.

"Don't look so nervous, Bruce. I just want to...have a little _**fun**_." His voice oozed sin and danger, and his stark white face seemed to be getting closer. Bruce had to clamp down on the more violent urges of his alter ego. "Then I suggest you go to an amusement park." He snarled in barely checked fury.

"Eh heh! Oh, that. Is. _Hysterical_." He wiped a nonexistent tear from the corner of his eye, and licked his lips in open enthusiasm. "It just wouldn't be the same without _you_, Brucey. I uh...thought we could get to know each other a bi_**t**_." That carmine grin widened, and those bare hands were suddenly _on _him. A surprised hiss of breath escaped the billionaire as he felt those hot fingers wrapping around his biceps.

"Don't _touch _me!" Bruce jerked backwards, attempting to bring his knee careening up into that smiling face. But his efforts were quickly and surprisingly thwarted. "Do you know...how disappointed I was when Harvey_ Dent _claimed to be the Ba**t**man? Harvey was just so _bland_. So..._lukewarm_." The Joker went on as if Bruce hadn't said a word.

"But _**you**_ - you, you, _you _- are just too..." The Joker had him firmly pinned against the coffee table, their fronts melting together intimately. That too blue gaze was _burning _into him. "..._perfect_."

Bruce blanched.

"...What?" His voice was quiet and breathy, and he loathed the sound of it. Very slowly and very deliberately, the Joker dragged his eyes down the length of his body. It was then Bruce remembered how little clothing he actually wore. His face grew hot under the intense scrutiny. "I didn't lie, you know. When I said that you...completed me. I meant every _word_." His tone was strangely soft.

"You and I, _**we**_...are two halves of a _per-_fectly insane whole." The Joker was almost whispering now. Bruce was stunned into silence, those words so sharp in his ears. It was unnerving - _frightening, _almost - to hear the jester speak like that. His inner bat was shaking inside his mental cage, all but demanding the chance to rain down justified hell on the Joker.

"You're deranged-" He was silenced by a pair of scarred lips smashing against his own. A deft tongue was slithering its way into his open mouth, and teeth were sinking into his lower lip. It was smoldering and sudden and _aggressive _in the best and worst of ways. A startled noise trembled in the back of his throat, and the Joker was all too happy to swallow it up.

Those hot hands were slipping down his sides, taking his waist in burning palms, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. He was being pushed back into the coffee table even harder than before, his back curving elegantly against the wooden edge. Bruce was lost to the storm of sensations - teeth, lips, _tongue_ - for the briefest of moments, but then he remembered who exactly was invoking said sensations. And his anger roared to new heights.

He jerked his head backwards, breaking their intimate contact with a ragged gasp, before slamming his forehead against the Joker's with a loud crack. The world went bright and blurry, and he could almost feel his brain rattling around inside his skull. The Joker let out a bark of pained laughter - "That _hurt_, Brucey!" - before stumbling backwards in a disorientated tizzy. Bruce wasn't about to waste the opportunity, and made a mad dash for the elevator. His vision was still blurred around the edges, and his movements weren't as swift or precise as they should have been.

_Every second counts_.

Just as he was frantically slapping his hand over the down button, the Joker crashed into him from behind. A surprised shout escaped him, as they were both sent sprawling to the floor. Bruce lie face down on the cool mahogany, the hard weight of his nemesis settling against him. An immovable force.

Then the feeling of cold steel made itself known along the sensitive length of his spine. Bruce tensed. The Joker grinned wickedly as he dragged his favorite blade down that beautiful back. He watched in absolute hunger as each individual muscle seemed to quiver underneath the light touch of tapered steel. "Wh-What the hell do you think you're-"

"At ta ta, try not to move. I really wouldn't want you to get..._hurt_, Bruce." The Joker chuckled - It was a dark, quiet sound that had Bruce holding his breath. He felt fingertips dusting over the back of his thighs, and the moist heat of a _tongue _tracing the definition of his shoulder. His breath hitched in his throat. The knife was just barely grazing the shallow dip of his lower back, and just as he was contemplating a last suicidal attempt at escape-

His briefs - his _last _line of defense - were suddenly being sliced into unrecognizable strips. Bruce paled a deathly shade of white. He was now naked. Underneath the Joker. The _**Joker**_. His situation couldn't _possibly _get any worse. "Eh heh heh! Oh my, Brucey! Look at this gorgeous body you've been hiding from me." Bruce could _hear _the damn clown licking his lips, and it caused his blood to burn. "I think that deserves some punishment, don't you?"

And then there were hands on his hips, pulling him onto his hands and knees. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!" He snarled, preparing to lash out. Knife or no knife, he wasn't about to lay down quietly and take whatever _punishment _the Joker had in mind. But the jester's next words had his blood turning to ice in his veins.

"I'd think carefully about your next move, _Bruce_. I'm sure Alfred wouldn't want to pay the price for _your _bad behavior." The Joker murmured against the shell of his ear. Bruce stiffened, his heart beating a bloody tattoo against his chest. No - no, no, _no_, - not Alfred. Please _God_, not Alfred. "What...What are you talking about?" He whispered. A gleeful grin split the Joker's face in two.

"He cares for you quite a _bit_. It would be an awful shame if he were to have a little...accident."

Bruce inhaled sharply. Fuck, fuck, fuck, _**fuck**_! He couldn't let anything happen to Alfred. He _couldn't_. The man had _raised _him - patched up his every injury, given him advice when he was too lost to find his way back, cared for him when no one else would. His heart clenched. There was no other choice. "What do you want from me, Joker?" His voice was soft and broken, and the Joker didn't think he would ever again hear a sound so beautiful.

"I just want you to behave for me." The Joker cantillated. His inner bat was screaming for blood, and Bruce wanted so badly to give in to the _rage_. But he wasn't willing to risk Alfred's safety. When he felt those smoldering hands wandering down his back, he could only curl his fingers into a trembling fist. And then those _damn_ hands were slipping lower and _lower_. A choked noise was torn from his throat when he was suddenly opened up, his most intimate orifice _exposed_.

Before he was able to wrap his mind around the severity of his situation - the _vulnerability _of his position - there was an unfamiliar wet heat pushing _into _him. "Nngh! Joker, wha-Ah!" His arms seemed to turn to jelly underneath him, and he was suddenly pitching forward. His cheek met intimately with the floor, and his backside was forced higher into the air. The Joker was licking - nipping, sucking, _thrusting_ - into that gorgeous pink pucker.

Bruce had never been subject to such _diligent _treatment, and the Joker could not be more delighted. He was the first to lay claim to Bruce - his _Bats _- in such a way, and he _would _be the last. He would drag out every sweet sound from those lush lips, and relish in every minute reaction he knew Bruce would be helpless to contain. He licked a long sweltering stripe from the perineum to the quivering cleft. He was rewarded with a keening whine that settled quite happily in his trousers.

Bruce was panting heavily into the floor, his hips canting backwards of their own volition. "Haahhh, _fuck_! Please. Stop." He ground out through clenched teeth. The Joker forced his tongue past that tight ring of muscle with one powerful thrust, and it was all Bruce could do not to _scream_. "Ahnn! Fu-_Fuck_!" His breathing had been reduced to stuttering gasps.

It was then he realized - to his absolute _horror _- that he was harder than he had ever been before. His length was swollen and flushed a deep pink; it bounced against his trembling abdominals with every involuntary thrust of his hips. His eyes squeezed shut, as a white hot shame boiled in his core. How could he be getting _off _on this? The Joker was his _enemy_! The monster that orchestrated Rachel's _death_. A true psychopath whose only purpose is to create _chaos_. Not to mention his very _male _status.

And yet...his every nerve was glowing with _feelssogood _and there was this part of him that didn't want it to stop - _Godpleasedon'tletitstop _- and that part was starting to get _louder_. His chest tightened with a potent mixture of desire and self loathing, and he could only hope to fucking heaven that the Joker _didn't notice_.

"Oh ho ho, and what. Is. This?" And then there were fingers wrapping around his rigid flesh, and he was coming undone at the seams. His back was arching and his hips were jerking forward and his mouth was falling open and it was all so _perfectly _obscene. "G-God, uhn!" He choked out. The Joker damn near drooled at the wanton display, and he had to wonder why he didn't peek under that Kevlar sooner.

"So much time wasted." He sighed sadly to himself. But he had _all the time in the world _to make up for it.

"Don't worry, Brucey." He cooed into his reddened ear. "I'm going to give you _**exactly **_what you need." He gave one final squeeze to that perfect cock and one final nip to that slender neck, before - somewhat reluctantly - retracting himself completely. Bruce could only pant and shudder and wonder what the _fuck _the Joker was planning now. He attempted to push himself up on wobbly arms.

"Ah ah ah. Stay _right_ where you are." He could hear the Joker shuffling about behind him, but he couldn't _see _the fucking menace. And that set him on edge. He was too open, too vulnerable. "Joker." He rasped angrily, some of his trepidation leaking into his voice.

"And _now_..." A low chuckle was heard. "I want you to prepare yourself for me."

Bruce went absolutely still. His eyes widened into chocolate saucers, and his face drained of all color. "Wh-What...?" His adam's apple bobbed nervously. There was no fucking way he meant..."I want you to _fuck _yourself, Bruce. I want you to stretch that tight hole until you just _can't take it_." Bruce gasped aloud at the heated words, his groin tightening deliciously.

"I-I...can't-"

"You _**will**_." The snarled command had his muscles coiling up.

He forced his breathing to slow. He had to do this. The Joker was getting impatient, and there was no way to predict what he might _do_. He _had _to do this. "For Alfred." He murmured underneath his breath. Without any further thought, he jammed three fingers into the moist depths of his mouth. He sucked on them for all he was worth - coating them with saliva - and did his very best to ignore the humiliation festering at the back of his mind.

Once his fingers were nearly _dripping_, he removed them from his mouth with an audible pop. He breathed deeply, attempting to coax his taut muscles into loosening. With no small amount of hesitancy, he positioned a single digit just outside of his virgin entrance and began to _push_-

An honest-to-God _whimper _slipped past his shaking lips. The intrusion was not at all welcome by his body, but he pushed past the dull ache beginning to manifest in his lower extremities. He wanted to get this _over _with, and began a shallow thrusting motion. _In. Out. In. __**Out**_. He slowly - _so very slowly _- slipped a second finger in to join the first. "Gnnh..." It _burned_, but he ignored it.

He has suffered through far worse pain before.

He spread his two fingers apart like a pair of scissors, stretching himself as best as he could. His chest was heaving, his lungs struggling to pump out every gasping breath. _Fuck_, why was this so _difficult_? He wheedled the third and final finger into his resistent channel, and almost bit his lip bloody in an attempt to silence the _noises _that were scrambling up his throat. "F-Fuck!" He gasped out.

_In. Out. In. Out. In. Out_. He pumped those three digits into himself until his arm grew numb, and that tight heat started to open up underneath his careful ministrations. He could feel himself relaxing, the pain abating, and it was a welcome change of pace. Just as he was settling into a disjointed rhythm, he struck _something _deep inside-

And then there were stars exploding behind his eyelids. He couldn't swallow down the needy cry that bubbled up. "Ahhn!" His arm buckled underneath him, and he promptly jerked forward. His length - _abouttoburst _- was _tingling _and sparks were _dancing _up his spine and his toes were fucking _curling_. Bruce had never felt _anything _so sinful.

"That's _enough_." The Joker's voice was low and raspy, and Bruce could hear the heavier pitch of his breathing. His inner bat was bristling quietly. Watching. Waiting for his chance. And Bruce was okay with that, because that _rage _that he had clung to so fiercely was starting to dwindle. He didn't know what he would do if it left him entirely. "You're uh..._incredibly _erotic, Brucey. You put on - heh - one _hell _of a show." The Joker sounded absolutely _hungry_.

"Why don't you turn around for me, beautiful." Bruce hissed at the endearment, but otherwise complied. What other option was there? Alfred's safety was not something he was willing to compromise. With a ragged exhale, he pushed himself back onto his haunches. It was with a great deal of caution and reluctance that he turned around to face the Joker, and his jaw damn near clattered against the floor.

His nemesis was lounging back in the most infuriatingly casual position - one leg bent lazily and the other stretched out - and just as _naked _as the day he was born. A demented grin took over his face in one long scarlet curl. His engorged sex - Bruce noticed with a shameful flush - was longer and _thicker _than his own. It was a bright rosy hue, the veins standing out proudly against the slender column of flesh. A bead of that pearly essence was starting to take shape at the very tip, and Bruce just _couldn't look away_.

"Do you..." He licked his lips. "..._like _what you see, Brucey? He's standing at attention _just_ for _you_." Bruce promptly snapped out of whatever spell had snared him. He met the too blue eyes of the Joker with a visible cringe, his expression twisting into one of horror. "Joker, what-?" He choked out, a tremble manifesting in his core. He was..._scared_. For the first time in a very - _very _- long time, Bruce was scared. Terrified, even. He knew what was going to happen, and he also knew there was _no way _he could fight off the inevitable. No amount of determination or brute strength was going to save him.

"Come. Here." It was a simple command, one that brooked no room for argument, and yet Bruce struggled to comply. He was damn near _frozen _in fear. "_**Now**_, Bruce." He visibly flinched, but forced himself into action. He inched his way towards the Joker, his insides churning with cold fear and hot anger. He scraped together his last shreds of dignity, and locked eyes with the madman. Crazed blue clashed with defiant auburn. A shock of electricity almost seemed to crackle in between them.

Then the Joker was darting forward, and there were _hands _on his hips.

He was being pulled flush against that shockingly muscular body, their contours coming together like two long lost puzzle pieces. His naked ass settled against the slope of the Joker's thighs, and the - _oh so_ _**sensitive **_- length of their cocks were nestled together in the tight canyon between them. He let out a little hitched whimper, and it only seemed to further _excite _the Joker. He groaned, the low sound rolling past his ear. "Fu-_ck_, Brucey. You really know how to turn a man's _crank_, if you - eh heh - know what I mean." The wicked words caused his face to bloom with color.

"No, I _don't _know what you mean." He bit out. Those _hands_ were _grabbing _and _squeezing _his backside, spreading him apart and slipping _inside_- "Hah! _Joker_! Nngh, don't-!" Bruce could only bite the inside of his cheek and hang on for dear life, as the Joker explored his insides with curious strokes and ground their hips together. _Hard_. The dual sensations - the _**friction **_- was positively glorious. He felt himself grow _harder_, if such a thing was even possible.

The shame and disgust washed through him, and Bruce wanted nothing more than to _scream_ out his inner turmoil. But he knew that would only add more fuel to the Joker's fire. "Don't hold back, Bruce. You won't be able to hold it in much longer." And somehow that sounded like a promise. Those nimble digits were gliding out of him, and then he was being shifted. Bruce inhaled sharply as he felt that - _throbbingpulsing__**hot **_- cock _sliding _in between the flushed swell of his cheeks.

It was the single most frightening moment of his entire adult life.

He tensed up, his heart all but stopping in his chest. "There's something...I need you to do for me." Bruce could hear the delighted smile on those painted lips. His voice trembled in his throat, but he forced the word to form. "What?" He breathed harshly. "I want..." He let the silence stretch for a moment, a crazed grin stretching across his face. "...I want you to _ride _me, Bruce." His voice was quiet and sharp and _demanded _action. "Nice. And. Slow." He punctuated each word with a small thrust.

Bruce clenched his eyes shut. His inner bat was eerily silent, but he could feel the hatred and rage brewing just underneath his skin. It warmed him, called out to him, and he wanted nothing more than to _release _it. But he couldn't. He _wouldn't_. He would play the Joker's game, and give up this little piece of himself. Alfred deserved that much, at the very least. "I...I've never..." He grit his teeth, mortification burning through him with a jagged intensity.

The Joker gave a pealing cackle. "Don't worry that pretty little head. I'll teach you _everything _you need to know."

Then he felt that barely-there-pressure against his entrance, and it was like his entire _world _was falling apart. He was doing this. He was _allowing _this to happen. "Now you just have to..." And he was suddenly being _pierced_, and - Oh, _**fuck **_- it hurt. So. Much. "...Ease yourself down, just like that." The Joker was murmuring into his ear with an almost tangible sweetness, and his stomach was churning.

Bruce couldn't swallow down all the broken sounds that were accumulating in his throat. He sank down slowly, feeling the burn intensify with every inch that breached him. His breathing was shallow. His jaw was clenched shut, his teeth grinding against each other. The pain was so _blinding _- It cut into him more than any blade or bullet ever could. "That's it, Brucey. Are you uh..._sure _you haven't done this before?"

Bruce was just about to snarl out a reply, but then the Joker was _thrusting _into him. It was _savage_ and unexpected. "Ahn! Fu-Fuck!" Bruce bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, and the Joker was instantly there to lap it up. "Oh, Brucey." There was a tongue tracing his jaw. "You're..._**so**_ much more than I could've hoped for." Hot open mouthed kisses were being pressed into his neck. Suction, teeth, moisture, and his reality was _crumbling_ around him. "It's like you were made..._just _for _**me**."_

Bruce would've snorted if he weren't so caught up in the _ache_. It felt as if he were being split in half by a _steel fucking pipe_. He squirmed in the Joker's lap, trying in vain to escape the discomfort. "And now you just need to..." Hands were curling around his hips. "..._move_."

And then they were moving.

He was being _lifted_, the Joker's turgid need slipping out of him with relative ease. Just as the feeling of fullness began to abate, he was _sinking_ back down. "Ah, fuck-nnngh!" Bruce breathed out shakily, gripping the Joker's bare shoulders hard enough to leave finger-shaped-bruises.

"How about we...pick up the _pace_, hm?" And that was all the warning he received. Bruce gasped out a curse as he was bounced roughly and suddenly. That _spot _within him was _jolted_, and he was _blinded _by the light. Bruce didn't have time to catch his breath - to wrap his mind around the fire _burning _through him - before it was happening again. "Joker, sto-stop!" He panted out, his hips bucking and his back arching. His body was _betraying _him, giving in to the _Joker_, and there was nothing he could do.

_Nothing_.

The Joker gave a gleeful cackle at the gorgeous - positively _**decadent **_- reactions he was getting from his Bruce. His _Bats_. He gave a particularly savage thrust into that tight heat, and delighted in the loud cry that was yielded to him. "Stop? Now _**why**_ would I want to do something like that?" He threaded his fingers through those thick chestnut locks, grabbing a handful and _yanking_-

"Mmph!" Bruce let out a muffled protest as his mouth was promptly taken in a ferocious kiss. A tongue - all smolder and _force _- pushed past his lips and swept across every _inch _of his moist cavern. It swiped over each tooth, stroked along the ridges of his oral roof, and entangled itself with his own tongue in a battle for dominance. Which he quickly lost. It was all Bruce could do to stay _conscious_, as his mouth and body were so thoroughly plundered.

He was bounced - up, down, up, down, up, _**down**_ - onto the Joker's unyielding need, and it felt as if he was being speared more deeply with every descent. That _perfect _spot inside of him was battered with every thrust, and it was melting his vision down into a too-bright-too-white haze. Bruce tore his lips free with a heaving gasp, the need for air finally overcoming him.

"I-I can't...Nah! Fuck, _please_!" Bruce had been reduced to _begging_. For what? He could no longer be certain. "You're uh...going to have to be a bi_**t **_more specific." The Joker rumbled against the sinewy curve of his neck. Bruce wanted to reply with something sarcastic and snarky - preserving the remaining tatters of his pride in any way possible - but he never got the chance. The world was suddenly tilting.

His back was smacking against the floor and his thighs were splitting open under confident hands and he was being literally _pounded _into the ground. Bruce was on the verge of openly sobbing. He couldn't stop the curving of his spine, the shameless twisting of his hips, the _moans_ dripping from his lips like honey from the hive. His voice was wet and fractured, and his eyes were glistening with unshed moisture. The Joker was hammering into him - his strokes long and impossibly hard - and he didn't know how much more his body could take. His pelvis was going to _shatter_.

And yet he had never experienced anything so absolutely _mind blowing _- earth shattering, _frighteningly _euphoric - in his entire life. And he knew no other experience would ever compare.

The hatred of his inner bat was now colder than ice, and it settled heavily in his bones. But the pleasure burned even _brighter_. And he _hated _it more than he hated _anything_. "Please...stop-!" He breathed, meeting the sizzling blues above him with an expression of subdued animosity. They gleamed at him from within those charcoal pits. "I _really _don't want to stop, Brucey. Not now. Not _**ever**_." Bruce could hear the steely resolve in those words.

And then they were escalating into something primal and violent. Bruce couldn't withhold the _scream_. Their mouths clashed in a burst of biting teeth and lashing tongues, and Bruce fought back for all he was worth as the Joker ravaged his body with a ferocity that only an agent of chaos would possess. He could feel his groin tightening, his essence boiling inside of him, and it would only be a matter of moments before he _burst_.

They moved as one. Their bodies rocked against - _into _- each other, and it was hot and wrong and absolutely sublime. His skull clattered back against the wooden floorboards, and his mouth fell open in a silent cry for _OhGodpleasemore__**now**_. "That's it, Brucey. You're _perfect _and you're _mine_." And that feral proclamation of possession whispered into his ear was _all he needed _to fall apart completely.

His inner muscles tightened around the Joker, milking him for all he was worth, as his orgasm rocked through him with enough force to tilt the world on its axis. His ears were ringing, his skin was tingly all over, and his eyes went temporarily blind. Thick ropes of seed erupted from the ruddy head of his member, coating their chests in a spritz of white. He could feel himself filling up with the Joker's liquid heat - painting his insides, _spilling _out of him - and it was _all too much_. This madman, this murderous _psychopath_, had just fucked him into his _own _fucking floor. Had just _claimed _him, and stolen something irreplaceable. "Oh, heh - eh heh heh - was that uh...a bit _too _much to handle?" The Joker was grinning from ear to ear, his expression one of sunshiney triumph.

Bruce had _never _felt such an overwhelming combination of fury, nausea, post-coital-bliss, and an insatiable longing for _more_. He let himself fall slack against the floor, the will to fight melting out of him with every drop of cum that dribbled down his thighs. He glared at the Joker through hooded eyes. "You..." He couldn't think of a _single _thing to say that would get across the million thoughts tumbling through his head.

The Joker's grin grew sharper. "Speechless, are we?" He gave a cheerful little titter, before pulling himself free from that abused channel with great reluctance. Bruce groaned quietly. Lead weights had been attached to his eyelids, and his brain was filling with warm cotton. He knew he shouldn't, he _knew _it would put him in a horrendously vulnerable position, but he just wanted to _sleep_.

He was _**so **_exhausted, the lack of sleep finally taking its toll. The Joker's smiling face started to blur above him, and he felt a spike of panic. "Ah, I might have went a bi_**t **_too hard on you, Brucey. Sorry about that." And somehow he didn't sound very sorry. He sounded pretty pleased with himself. Bruce wanted so badly to punch the crazy out of the clown, but his fingers just wouldn't curl into a fist. The world was fading.

Bruce felt a cold stab of fear. He was losing consciousness. "Oh, don't. You. Worry. I'll take _very _good care of you." And dear _God_, he was so fucked.

* * *

When he awoke, it was to the familiar dent of his mattress and the subtle weight of his sheets. It took a considerable effort to crack his eyes open; the blinding beam of sunlight that greeted him was hardly welcomed. He rolled onto his side out of an instinctive desire to escape the light, and nearly shouted at the surge of pain that shot through him.

Bruce winced at the insistent burning in his backside. His ass fucking _hurt_.

And then he was assaulted by a rush of memories he would've preferred to stay forgotten. Color flooded his cheeks, and a snarl shaped his mouth into something fierce. That son of a _bitch_. The Joker had..._had..._

He couldn't even bring himself to _think _it! A molten hot rage burned through him with the intensity of a star gone supernova. The Joker would _pay_, of that he would make certain. His inner bat seemed to agree wholeheartedly, rattling the iron bars of his cage with anticipation alone. Bruce pushed the sheets back and - _ever _so slowly - climbed out of bed. Simply standing up caused him more pain than he cared to admit, but the clenching of his jaw spoke volumes. Steeling himself, he began a careful limp to the master bathroom. Every step caused a jolt of fire to light up his insides.

With a frustrated hiss, he stepped in front of the marble sink. The man that stared back at him from the mirror was one he _did not _recognize. Bruce could only gape in pure horror at the state of his body. He had been injured so many times before - almost too many to count - but not like this. _Never _like this. His neck was encased almost entirely in dark purple bruises - _"Love bites, Brucey!" _- and teeth impressions peppered his shoulders.

His biceps and hips bore finger shaped bruises, and it caused his muscles to tighten with fury. His bare thighs were nearly _black _from the extensive bruising. He was almost afraid to see the damage done to his backside. Breathing in deeply, he turned around and glanced back over his shoulder. His jaw almost shattered against the tile. "_Joker_." He seethed, a bestial growl rattling in his throat.

Written on his _naked ass_ - in what he suspected to be permanent marker - was the Joker's messy and somewhat childish scrawl.

It read, "_Property of the Joker!_"

And Bruce was seeing _blood _red. He snatched a towel from the rack with more force than was strictly necessary, and whipped around just in time to catch the eye of Alfred, who stood quite still in the doorway. Time almost seemed to stop between the two of them, and they just _stared_. And then-

"My word, Master Wayne. I really can't leave you alone for a single night, can I?"


End file.
